The Dark Places (2 page)

The crowd within the Lilith had
undergone a turnover. Most had left and another wave had swarmed in to replace
them. This particular batch looked more festive and had faster-paced music
booming throughout our space, which Harry had soundproofed long ago to keep the
neighboring store owners from storming the premises.

Harry was taking bids for a new
card game, and Bilk was talking to some garishly made-up, tittering women at a
table near the door. Perhaps it was due to his species’ unique vision, but Bilk
had a big weakness for fluorescent-painted females. He was almost drooling over
the colorful, scantily clad group. And I was desperately weary, with a long
litany of complaints revolving in my thoughts.

I
want to sit down. I want to go home. I want my bed.
At this point I
almost
wanted to save up enough credits
to buy an intersystem flight-liner ticket back to despised Dearleth. I wanted
never
to have seen Harnaru in my life. I
wanted to be back on icy, cruel Dearleth, at my old part-time job cataloging
book microdisks in our colony library, never allowing enticing thoughts about
new and better opportunities on a frontier world to enter my desperate little
brain….

“Could I have a refill, doll?” My
Real Quiet One spoke up for once, snagging my attention.

I looked him over, wondering why it
was that it only took one beer or ale to get some guys fired up good and loud,
and why it took some men eight refills of a hell-and-brimstone brew to get them
to speak up.

I set his request—with no
ice—before him and smiled at his nod of thanks as he tendered the silver credit
tokens with another generous tip for me. His expression was sharply aware—not a
befuddled person recklessly throwing away his money. So I didn’t feel too bad
accepting my ninth big tip from him.

“How are you feeling?” I finally
asked. Curiosity and concern overrode the professional distance I’d learned to
maintain.

“Not too bad,” he said with a
noncommittal shrug.

I’d started to turn away to do some
long-overdue wiping of the watermarked bar top when he spoke again.

“You’re not from around here.”

It was more of a statement than
question.
What nerve
—
and neither are you!
I quelled the
defensive thoughts and forced myself to nod. I grabbed a towel and busied myself
with ambitious swipes at condensation that the flimsy napkin coasters provided
under the patrons’ drinks hadn’t absorbed. I figured if I kept quiet, he’d go
back to his blue study. I had no desire whatsoever to talk about my aspirations
and heartaches.

He took the hint and became quiet
again for the next half hour or so. In the last half-hour stretch remaining in my
shift, however, he fixed an intent stare on me and spoke. “Would you care for
dinner at a Sauran restaurant?”

No disarming preamble about my
looks or charms—or other opening gambits most men resorted to before a meal
invitation. Just that dead serious, quiet voice and an intense stare fastened
upon me.

I stared into the green-gold
glitter points swimming in those black eyes as I considered the offer. I didn’t
accept patron invitations. A lot of unwary—and also
very
wary—barmaids on Harnaru ended up missing or horribly abused
in the aftermath of dinner-after-work offers if their companions turned out to
be nut cases. I sighed and folded my hands before me upon the bar top.

A
lot of girls end up with some pretty exciting romantic stuff to hang in their
memories, to shake out and smile over whenever life gets grim, desolate, and
plain unkind….

My Real Quiet One unwaveringly met
my questing stare. I marveled that he appeared alert after eight—or was it nine?—Crynishan
Dawn death brews. Sixteen or eighteen
total
,
if you counted the Zyran Kickers, I absently tallied.

Then I,
Kailiri
Summers, made up my mind to sample a little indulgence. Life had been pretty
grim, desolate, and unkind as of late—and he seemed to be the strong, steady-going
type. The man didn’t seem to be a sadistic psychotic. I continued studying his
relaxed expression and peering into his fireworks eyes.

I nodded slow acceptance. “A Sauran
restaurant it is.”

He smiled and indicated his empty
glasses needed refilling.

Chapter Two

I sat in the back of the taxi
flitter next to my Real Quiet One, trying not to feel or look tense. After
handing over the bar to burly, no-nonsense Tank for the late-night shift, I’d
managed to unobtrusively tell Bilk and Harry about my after-work invitation so
they would alert the justice force if my companion proved to be a psychopath
and I didn’t turn up at the Lilith the following night. Which took care of
tomorrow, but it didn’t cover the present,
nor
the near
future.

When Harry had asked for my new
friend’s name—just in case he needed to send out a rescue party—I’d dodged the
inquiry but wanted to smack my head.
I
don’t know!
I’m an
idiot.
Apprehension and misgivings
swirled in my stomach.

I fixed my attention on the city
lights’ bright, colorful kaleidoscope as they rushed past the windows. On my
slim budget, I didn’t often get a chance to enjoy a flitter ride uptown. I
walked everywhere. If I couldn’t walk there, I didn’t go.
Simple.

A warm hand touched my neck, and I
forced myself not to jump. My Real Quiet One had draped an arm across the seat
cushion inches from my shoulders. He swept back some of my fiercely
independent, shoulder-cut dark curls from where they’d gotten caught under the
high collar on my black coveralls. His fingers slipped beneath my curls and ran
light, sensuous strokes along my increasingly warm neck.

Breathing became a bit difficult,
and my entire midsection tingled and yearned. Part of me wanted to relax into
the gentle massage from the strong, knowledgeable fingers caressing my skin.
Part of me wanted to pull away. I opted to stay very still.

I’m
letting this man touch me and I don’t even know his name.
My brain didn’t
seem to be working properly. He had strange effects upon me.

I’d wanted to ask his name several
times these past few minutes, which had blurred by in mental muzziness after
we’d left the Lilith and he’d hailed the flitter. I wanted to know it now, but
I had no wish to ask within the driver’s earshot. The man would think I was
some kind of loose screw to get in a taxi with a guy whose name I didn’t know,
which was exactly the situation. But I cared. I didn’t operate like that, and I
didn’t want anyone else thinking I did.

“You look tired, doll,” my
companion said softly. “Would you rather be dropped off at your home and take
me up on my dinner offer another time?” His appellation for me reminded me that
he
didn’t know my name either.

What
would his mother think of him, offering to buy dinner for a nameless broad?

My muscle-stiffened body relaxed
and I also managed a teasing grin. “When would be another time?”

“That’s difficult to estimate, doll,”
he said with a wry smile. “Might be several months, might be several weeks. It
all depends on my ship’s navilog scheduling and other factors. I’m leaving
Harnaru tomorrow morning—weather, conditions, and the Fates willing, of
course.”

He had spoken reluctantly, but I
appreciated his honesty. There had been several times in my past when “some
other time” had become never. My admiration increased for this Real Quiet One,
who could toss down so many liquid brain depressants and still make courteous,
intelligent conversation without becoming obnoxious.

“I’ll take tonight,” I said softly,
trying not to sound coy or cute.

“I hope that you will enjoy
Marantha’s Palace. It’s owned and operated by a local Sauran temple. The
atmosphere is ostentatious and touristy, but the food is authentic Sauran, and
good.”

I turned to him and stared. I got
the feeling there was more to him than just a spacer with ship-cabin fever out
on the town. Something deeper lay beneath his casual speech and leisurely
manner. I sincerely prayed the Great Creator hadn’t sent a government probe, a
detective—or predator maniac—my way this night. I doubted my family was
searching for me. And I had no involvement with subversives or criminal elements—and
neither did Harry. As far as I knew, he kept his establishment and business-dealings
legal and clean.

Did
my new companion have a clean slate?
I hadn’t attempted asking yet what
line of work he was in, but he’d come in on a ship somewhere—he’d admitted
that
much. And before we got to that
fancy restaurant, there was one vital thing I needed to know.

Past experience had taught me it
was best to ask beforehand. Dates were often complex rituals, rife with
unspoken expectations based upon the couple’s misconceptions.
Hope it doesn’t offend him
.

“About dinner—are we splitting the
bill?” I bit my lower lip. But recalling his generous bar tips, I didn’t think
he was that type.

“Spoken like an honest business
woman.” Warm amusement echoed in his voice.
“No, doll.
Dinner is my treat.”

I nodded, trying not to show relief,
and dared to breathe again. There wasn’t much in my citizen’s account for
extravagances.

He was right about the Sauran
restaurant’s over-the-top atmosphere. The softly illumined, pleasantly cool
interior contained low, white marble benches covered with patterned silk
cushions and matching white marble tables. Little brook streams inset into the
imported wood flooring surrounded the seating areas’ perimeter. Fragrant water-blossom-filled
ponds also graced the spacious dining area, along with gushing fountains. The
brooks and fountains created lighthearted water babbling sounds throughout the
restaurant. Adding to the off-world cultural charm, tinkling bells and
achromatic music pervaded the atmosphere, filtering into the head and heart.
Lush blue foliage native to Saura occupied the walls, ceiling, and table tops.
It
was
all a bit overpowering.

I tried not to care that I wore
only black utilitarian coveralls and scruffy city boots. This place demanded
fancier garb. My Real Quiet One blended in, with his well-tailored gray tunic
that nicely molded to his wide, straight shoulders and wiry frame. The other
diners appeared to have taken care to dress their swankiest best.

Even more impressive than the surroundings
were the male Sauran waiters themselves, as they strode confidently among the
tables and diners arrayed in their stiff, intricately designed cerulean-blue ceremonial
robes. They displayed one central upright strip of tall, straight red hair upon
their shaved, blue-skinned skulls in a style favored by Saura’s
warrior-priests.

The food was plentiful and
delicious, more so after my eight long months of stinted efforts at budget
cooking and frequenting cheap diners. My host seemed not to have as keen an
appetite as mine, and accordingly I tried to stifle my excited stomach.

He noticed and smiled as he pushed
a plate toward me filled with delectable, tiny meat-stuffed pastry appetizers. “Please,
eat, doll. Crynishan Dawns have a tendency to take the edge off my appetite.”

I stared at him.
Finally
I’d discovered an effect that
killer brew had on him.

Somewhere in between the main
course of exotic vegetables, delicate sauces, grains, poultry, and seafood he’d
ordered when I’d hesitated too long over the extensive—and very expensive—menu,
I gathered my courage and asked my host’s name. “Um… you’ve been so kind and I
don’t know even know your name.” A big bloom of warmth welled beneath my
collar. He probably thought I was witless, naïve, and had never dated anyone
since the beginning of time.

The golden-green glitter in his
dark eyes held my attention, as did his inviting smile. He dipped his head
slightly. “Matt Lorins, at your service, doll.”

I laid down my small, delicately
carved wooden fork. “And I’m Kailiri Summers.”

“Kailiri…,” he repeated softly, his
low voice lingering over each syllable. “I like it… and its bearer.”

I swallowed the lump of
embarrassment sprouting in my throat at the open admiration in the boldly
assessing, dark gaze that scrutinized my face and body.

“Where are you originally from?” He
pushed aside his plate as if he’d eaten his fill of the savory fare.

“Dearleth,” I said without
enthusiasm, thinking if he continued on this track, my own appetite would
vanish.

He didn’t. Matt began talking about
Harnaru instead, and I resumed happily disposing of the delicious, steaming
nutrition on my ornate, gold-patterned plate.

Matt was good at making dinner
talk. He managed to thaw my reservations enough that somewhere along the way,
we revealed our ages. In Standard Alliance Years, Matt was thirty-seven and I
was twenty-eight. I hoped he was telling me the truth.

Then he charmed another truth from
my lips. “Are you promised to anyone, doll?”

That direct question and steady
stare caught me off guard. The water-filled, gold-rimmed goblet I’d lifted
slipped a fraction in my fingers. I set it down fast on the table.
“No… no one.”

Impossible not to feel some social failing by
admitting this
.
And never mind
that doomed arrangement my parents had planned when it didn’t look like I was
eager to wed anyone and leave the nest.
I’d
never met him beyond a holopicture.
Nothing was
ever
going to induce me to travel halfway across Dearleth’s icy
wilderness to marry that crazed-looking, isolated prospector.

I lifted my chin and straightened.
“What about you?” My returned challenge didn’t make him blink or squirm.

“No one is waiting for me, doll,”

With that point established, my
wariness factor dropped degree by slow degree. The late evening became far-advanced
night without my awareness, which meant I was enjoying his company, the food,
and the extravagant, tourist-attraction restaurant.

Our waiter had just taken away the
last platter and politely inquired about our interest in sweet confections.
Matt requested Sauran fruit cordials instead, and he asked also to have them
served on the restaurant’s rooftop balcony. Next he requested our dinner’s tab.
It was impossible not to stare at all the gold credit tokens he extracted from
a tunic pocket to pay for our meal.

His hand was warm and reassuring in
mine as he guided me up the fragile spiral staircase amidst long trellises
entwined with flowering vines hanging from the restaurant’s high ceiling. We
stepped out onto a fairly wide and very crowded balcony. He led me past the
occupied wrought metal tables and chairs without visible dismay upon his well-defined
features.

Matt demonstrated he was a
resourceful, alternative thinker—a vital advantage for a spacer’s survival out
there in a hostile environment, I’m sure—by pulling me aside to sit near a tall
pedestal cornerstone on the low balcony wall’s flat, wide top. He guided me to
the snug spot between the cornerstone and himself. Everyone else seemed
reluctant to sit on such a precarious perch, so we had the entire wall to ourselves.

He anchored me with an arm around
my back and his hand firmly clasping my waist. I didn’t protest. It was a long
drop to the pavement below.

I couldn’t suppress a contented
sigh as I raised my head to study the black star-decked night skies open to
free viewing by all and sundry.

“Which
planet are
you headed for next, Matt?” I asked.

He placed a hand under my chin and
gently tilted my head to the left over my shoulder. “Rikin lies in that
direction, doll. It’s my next destination. And it’s in the Naris System…. Ruled
by a giant blue star and comforted by three pale moon maidens.”

I turned to study him. The
flickering glow from tall, primitive-styled fire torches stuck straight up in
brackets set along the balcony’s perimeter at regular intervals clearly
delineated the strong bone structure of his tanned face. “Are you a poet,
Matt?” I asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“Only when I’ve
downed several Crynishan Dawns, doll.”
He smiled, and I couldn’t help
smiling back.

I was about to ask him what it was
he was going to do on Rikin when a waiter approached with our cordials. I
watched with concern as Matt raised his thick-bottomed, silver-embossed glass
to his lips. I wondered if my stalwart imbiber was going to experience some
adverse effects from mixing this orthodox but potent fruit liqueur with the
other strange brews circulating in his system. But he looked unaffected as he
reached up to place the small empty glass upon the high corner stone’s flat
top.

I finished the blue, spicy-sweet
contents that sizzled, then cooled my throat on the way down and warmed my
stomach.

He took my drained glass and added
it next to his. Matt considered the murmuring, shifting crowd around us and
then focused on me. “Why are you working as a barmaid, Kailiri?”

I might have laughed, except he was
unsmilingly serious. I turned my head and gazed out over the city’s jumble,
stacked with flitter tail lights trailing along streets, towering lurid signs,
and sky high illuminated establishments that made up Marnu’s nightscape. “
There’s
not very many golden opportunities in Marnu for a
bohemian-type, Matt.”
And even fewer ones
for junior assistant librarians.
But there was no need for him to know my
former occupation on Dearleth.

“Paint, theater, or words?” he
asked in a level, somber tone. I liked him even more for not laughing at my
lofty aspirations. What my family had called them back on Dearleth was
unrepeatable.

“Paint… and words,” I absently
answered, thinking of the stack of microdisks containing various novels I’d
imperfectly imprinted on my battered, cheap protyper back in my hotel studio
room. None of the major planet-based publishing houses—or the innovative
traveling publishing ships—had wanted to touch any of them.
Not enough romance
, the publishers’
rejection messages had admonished.